


the pit keeps going deeper

by avosettas



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dusttale Sans (Undertale), Horrortale Sans (Undertale), Hurt/Comfort, Killer Sans (Undertale) - Freeform, Killer Sans/Horrortale Sans/Dusttale Sans (Undertale), M/M, Multi, Psychosis, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/pseuds/avosettas
Summary: In an episode, Dust would hide, and he would be still, save for scratching feverishly at himself and perhaps mumbling or even screaming, which was why Horror was carrying not only some crackers and juice boxes, but a first aid kit as well.(Or, Killer and Horror patch Dust up after he has an episode.)
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 88





	the pit keeps going deeper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zephyred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyred/gifts).



> i'll throw all my headcanons about dust's mental state in here, and then i'll die.

Considering all of their various… _issues_ , it doesn’t exactly surprise Killer to find out that Nightmare keeps tabs on their emotions - what better use for his only partially-developed empath senses than taking care of his family? 

It’s not a shock, either, when he’s the only one who seems to know where to find Dust after he’s been missing for two days, even when Killer and Horror can’t manage it. But he leaves the rest to them, only pointing upwards and telling them to make sure Dust is alright, rather than going along with them.

So they make their way up to the attic first - Killer only barely causing the stairs to creak, with quiet, light steps, and Horror thumping along, almost stomping with his heavy, unsteady gait. In hindsight, Killer supposes it should have been their first move to check the attic - it was full of hiding spots, and one of the constants of Dust’s episodes was always his need to hide. 

The attic is dusty - normal, natural dust, thankfully, not monster dust - and it smells funny, because stars only knows what the fuck Nightmare has kept up here, in the five centuries that he’s had use of the space. There are some newer fixtures, though - a few boxes taken from Horror’s old home, and one or two each belonging to Killer and Dust. 

None of them had had much, when Nightmare had found them. And Killer doubts that anything up here is Cross’s, either - he’d probably had less than the rest of them combined. 

Horror is sniffing a bit, but Killer ignores that in favor of weaving around piles and stacks of junk, graceful and silent. There’s no movement, aside from his own, but it’s not surprising - in an episode, Dust would hide, and he would be still, save for scratching feverishly at himself and perhaps mumbling or even screaming. 

Hence why Horror was carrying not only some crackers and juice boxes, but a first aid kit as well. 

Killer makes his way back to the threshold between the stairs and the attic, where Horror is still hunching, sniffing for any scent of Dust with his overdeveloped olfactories. “you smell ‘im?” 

“not a whiff,” Horror replies. He sounds grumpy, but it’s obviously worry. Killer just thumps his shoulder weakly. 

“gonna be alright,” he mumbles, though they still have so much to search. By himself, he’s no help; his sense of smell was no better than your average skeleton, and he didn’t have even partially developed empath skills. “bedrooms next?” 

Horror nods, and leads the way, stepping heavily from stair to stair. In his head, Killer runs through a list of rooms in the house, considering each one. 

There’s no way Dust could stay anywhere in Nightmare’s room without him noticing, and it’s unlikely he would try to hide in Cross’s room during an episode. His own room might be an option - neither Horror nor Killer have entered it recently, though Dust really only uses it to store his clothes in, and his plants during the winter. And it’s absurd to consider that he could have been in Killer or Horror’s room this entire time. 

“...where d’you wanna check first?” Horror asks. 

“his room?” Killer shrugs. “dunno where he could be, ‘less he went to another universe. maybe one of our bedrooms, but…” 

Horror seems to realize something; his eyelight shrinks to a pinprick, and both sockets narrow. “shit.” 

“what?” But Horror has already taken off, quick as his lumbering, uneven steps will allow. “horror, what?!” 

Killer catches up quickly, but Horror is too focused to respond to his frantic questioning. He finally comes to a stop in front of his own bedroom door, and breathes heavily for a moment. Eventually, he says, “smells… way too fresh…” 

“i have no idea what that fucking means,” Killer says irritably. 

“usually… smells like him in here ‘nyway,” Horror grunts, gesturing to the door with his skull. “but it should… should be stale since… he hasn’t slept in here in… um…” 

Killer restrains himself from pushing; it won’t help anything, though he does suggest, “in two days?” 

Horror nods slowly. “but the scent’s been fresh.” 

Killer returns the nod with his own; he can’t tell stale scent from fresh, not with his _normal_ sense of smell. But Horror’s has mutated, evolved to be stronger. Both of them can smell Dust on the pillows and in the sheets of Horror’s bed, if they concentrate, but Killer could never tell, based on only that, whether or not Dust had slept there the night before. 

“so you think he’s been in here the whole time.” 

Horror nods again and opens the door. It’s much warmer than the attic, and Killer relaxes unconsciously. He hates knowing that Dust spent two days alone, panicking, because he’s so good at hiding anyway, but he’d hate it more if Dust had spent that time in the cold of the attic. 

“...dust? you in here… bunny?” Horror calls as Killer shuts the door behind him again. 

There aren’t many places here to hide, which Killer supposes makes things easier. Under the bed, and maybe in the closet. Horror is still standing by the door, looking unsure of himself, so Killer drops onto his hands and knees slowly and makes his way towards the bed. 

Horror actually makes his bed, unlike most of the castle’s inhabitants, so when he’s close enough Killer slowly raises the comforter, as if he’s trying not to spook an injured animal. 

Wedged in the space between the floor and the frame of the bed is Dust. 

His eye sockets are wide, eyelights shaking in them and painting his hiding spot with a soft bluish-red glow. It’s too dark to see much else, but Killer can smell blood, both new and old, copper and metallic. 

“hey, dust bunny,” Killer murmurs. “really a dust bunny since you’re under the bed, huh?” Dust doesn’t answer, though his eyelights flick towards the door and back to Killer’s face. Killer figures he can see Horror’s feet, so he adds, “‘s just Horror. ‘s just the two of us in here. why don'tcha come on out, yeah?” 

Dust shrinks back slightly, and says something incoherent that Killer can’t hear - it sounds like he’s repeating one word, but changing a letter or a sound. “aw, bunny…” 

He feels the floorboards dip a bit as Horror shuffles over, and crouches himself. Killer shifts back; crowding Dust would only be worse. He can’t quite see or hear, now, but after a moment, Horror pulls Dust out. 

Horror has him by the armpits, and Dust looks small in his grip, wide eyed with fear. Now, Killer can see where he’s clawed through his own bones, both on his forearms and his skull, by either scratching or just digging his claws into them. Fresh blood is still seeping from the wounds and mixing with the already dried, crusty bits around them. 

“did - di - dinner - did,” Dust mumbles, so quickly it could be a stutter, though Killer and Horror both know it’s simply an incomprehensible sentence. Presumably, it’s his usual repeated apologies, but he can’t get it out - the word salad is bad today, Killer notes, though it’s been worse. 

“we gotcha,” Horror mumbles as he shifts and settles on the bed, Dust in his lap. Killer pulls the first aid kit from the nightstand where Horror left it, and settles beside them. 

Dust tries to speak again, but it’s just as incomprehensible as before. Killer rubs his shoulder gently as he fiddles with the kit, “shh, bunny, we know. gonna be alright, no one blames you.” 

“hand me the… the food,” Horror orders, reaching behind Dust to take the crackers, and Killer passes him a juicebox as well. To Dust, he adds, “you’ll… feel better when we get some food in you… promise, mhm.” When he meets Killer’s eyelights, he leans down to mumble against Dust’s skull, “hold on… gotta move you so we c’n fix you up.” 

Dust barely makes a sound as Horror turns him to face Killer, weakly laying his skull on Horror’s shoulder. Killer studies him, trying to figure out where to begin. Eventually, he decides on beginning with Dust’s forearms, so he can keep resting his head. 

Horror apologizes quietly when Dust flinches as he unwraps a roll of the crackers, keeping his arms around Dust’s waist to support him all the while. Killer untwists the jar of healing cream from the kit, and leaves it open beside him to open the pack of alcohol wipes, too. 

“di - din - did -” Dust rasps. “didn’t mean…” 

It’s the first comprehensible thing he’s said, however fragmented, which hopefully means this episode is nearly over. Horror’s eyelights are soft as he murmurs something against Dust’s skull as he sticks the straw in a juicebox, and then holds it to Dust’s teeth with an encouraging grunt of “drink up.” 

Dust does, taking the straw delicately between his teeth, and Killer waits until he lets it go to start cleaning him up. The other stares at him, anxiety clear in his eyelights, and Killer kind of wishes alcohol didn’t sting wounds so badly. 

He takes one of Dust’s arms by the elbow, gently extending it towards him. Dust lets it happen, pliant and exhausted, though he tenses when Killer works his hoodie off his shoulder, and then down his arm past the wounds. Horror does the same with the other sleeve, balling the ratty sweatshirt up next to him. 

“alright,” Killer mutters, pulling a wipe from the pack and folding it into quarters. “deep breath, dust bunny.” 

Dust’s breathing calms only slightly, and Killer supposes that’s the best he can hope for at the moment. “right. three, two…” In place of ‘one’, he presses a corner of the wipe to Dust’s radius.

Dust spasms in Horror’s grip, weakly struggling against his gentle hold. Killer doesn’t remove the wipe, but he doesn’t keep going, either; instead he waits for Dust’s wheezing to calm again, rubbing at his elbow with his thumb. 

“sss - saw -” Dust rasps.

Killer hushes him again, slowly cleaning his wrist, beginning at the ends of his bones and working up towards his own hand, gripping Dust’s elbow hard enough to keep him still, but softly enough to not hurt. He has to replace the wipe several times, either because it’s become unusable from crusted blood, or because it’s gone red from the fresh blood still weeping from some of Dust’s wounds. 

By the third pass, however, Dust has stopped flinching enough that Killer can take his time, glancing up to watch Dust’s face every so often as he meticulously cleans him up. He seems calmer; Horror has given him more juice, and when Killer pauses to grab the bandages and the healing cream, he tries to coax Dust into eating, too. 

“‘s just a cracker,” he tells Dust, holding it up to the other’s face, and though Dust looks slightly queasy, he opens his jaw a tiny bit and takes the smallest bite. Horror purrs against him, though it’s weaker than usual - Killer has a feeling he’s forcing it to comfort Dust, even though he’s worried out of his mind. “so… proud of you, bunny, thank you…” 

Killer chuckles a bit, and then swipes some of the healing cream with his thumb and begins coating Dust’s arm. It shouldn’t hurt; he’s been victim of it many times himself, and usually it just feels kind of cold. He covers about an inch of Dust’s forearm with it before he needs to grab more, and in the meantime, Horror has Dust working on that single cracker still. 

Dust seems much more relaxed, between Horror’s intermittent, and now, much less forced purrs, since he’s eating the crackers being given to him, though when he isn’t distracted he watches Killer apprehensively. Probably because he knows Killer still needs to clean his other arm, and his skull. 

“there we go.” Killer sets Dust’s cleaned up, bandaged arm back onto his lap, before taking the other. With a grin, he tells him, “first is always the worse one, y’know.” 

This time, Dust only flinches when Killer begins with the wipes. He calms much quicker, too, though Killer suspects it might be because Horror’s grabbed his free hand, letting Dust squeeze it tightly. It goes faster this time, Killer falling into a much easier rhythm. He finishes cleaning, smearing cream on the wounds, and bandaging them on this arm in about the time he took just to clean the first one. 

“all done,” Killer tells him, placing that arm in his lap as well. “how’s your head?” 

Dust frowns, and opens his mouth. Killer prepares for the word salad, but it seems the episode has finally receded completely, because Dust only mumbles, “‘s fine, just kinda hurts.” 

Killer guides him to bow his head gently, though he remains curled into Horror as much as he can manage. “good, i got’cha,” Killer murmurs, taking another wipe to the wounds on Dust’s skull. They’re much shallower than the ones on his arms, so Killer settles with working the crusted blood off, before giving them one last swipe with the wipe. Then, he smoothes the cream over the wounds, humming a bit. 

“...done?” Dust asks, voice rough. 

Horror resettles him in his lap, letting the other rest his head in the crook of his neck once more. “yup… all set, bunny. you… wanna talk about it?”

Dust shakes his head so quickly that Killer thinks it would fly off if it wasn’t attached by his vertebrae. Killer scoots over to Horror’s other side, so they don’t need to reorient Dust again, and leans against the two of them, skull on Dust’s scapula. 

“‘s okay,” Horror says, and as the purr rises from his chest, Killer can tell it’s real this time. “y’just know we’re… here, right. don’ need to worry too much…” 

The answering nod Dust gives him is much slower, though still quite erratic. Killer nuzzles into his back, and he feels Dust sink further into his spot, cuddled between the two of them. “be right here to take care of you, whether y’wanna talk about it or not,” he adds, taking Dust’s free hand. 

He hears Dust inhale shakily, and the tight squeeze of Dust’s trembling fingers around his own is acknowledgement enough for Killer.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @avosettas


End file.
